Zombie Rules (Book 7): The Fifteens

by Achord, David

  “Thirty-six crates, each crate weighs about thirty pounds. I’d say the tare on each crate is about five pounds, so we’re looking at about nine hundred pounds of that PAX stuff.”

  “Sounds about right,” Joker said. “And we still have room to stop by and pick up our loot on the way back home.”

  “A good lick all around,” Little Joe exclaimed with a grin.

  “We’d like five crates,” Trader Joe said.

  “What are you talking about?” Joker asked.

  “Well, Sergeant Lutz, it goes like this. We were basically coerced to go on this mission. Now keep in mind, we did not complain, we’re team players, but my son and I don’t work for free. We’d like to take five crates back to Marcus Hook. I’m sure Roscoe would love to put this around the defense works and it would raise our stock in the Marcus Hook community.”

  Joker nodded. “I understand what you’re saying. We’ll put it before the president…”

  Trader Joe cut him off with a shake of the head. “Nope. I’m not negotiating with him. I’m negotiating with you. We’ve been team players with you, Sergeant, and we’ve busted our asses.”

  “Damn right,” Little Joe echoed.

  Joker took a deep breath. “One crate and take your pick of everything we’ve scavenged.”

  “Four crates,” Trader Joe countered.

  Joker snorted. “Let’s make it three and be done with it.”

  Trader Joe broke into a broad grin. “Done. Why don’t we blast open another magazine?”

  “I used most of the Semtex,” Joker said. “I doubt we have enough to blow another door. Besides, we should probably get out of here.”

  “Yeah, I’m ready to go home,” Little Joe said.

  “He’s got a little love interest back at Marcus Hook,” Trader Joe said to Joker and gave a wink. “How about I drive so you can get your hands fixed up?”

  Joker nodded in agreement and they were soon underway. It wasn’t until they reached the exit when trouble hit in the form of fifty or so zeds. They were standing around the road, like a welcoming party.

  “Shit. I knew this was going too good,” Little Joe moaned. “Where the hell did they come from anyway?”

  “I don’t know but watch how you drive, and we only shoot them if we have to,” Joker said.

  “You don’t need to remind us,” Little Joe retorted and worked to put in some earplugs before pulling out his Beretta 92X.

  Trader Joe weaved back and forth, but he still slowed down to a crawl and inevitably ran over two zeds. Joker turned and watched out the back window as the trailer bounced over the zed corpses.

  “Alright, I’m clear of them,” Trader Joe said and accelerated to thirty.

  When they were satisfied they’d put enough distance between themselves and the zeds, they relaxed a little, although they maintained a lookout to the front and their flanks.

  “I say we drive through the night and get back home,” Little Joe suggested.

  Joker thought about it. There were no unforeseen obstacles on the ride down; no blocked roads, no sinkholes big enough to swallow a car, no massive hordes like that time in DC.

  “As soon as you find an open area with good fields of observation, we’ll stop and top off with the Jerry cans,” he said.

  “And then we’ll head home?” Little Joe asked.

  “At night? With headlights?” Trader Joe asked.

  “Yeah. We should be home in eight hours, God willing,” Joker said.

  “God willing,” Trader Joe repeated.

  Chapter 52 – Lake City

  They’d parked the semi in the middle of several other derelict vehicles and walked the last two miles in a modified bounding over-watch. It slowed their travel time, but they did not want to risk walking into an ambush. Once they were within two hundred yards, they took cover behind a dumpster that somehow became partially overturned and rested against a school bus that had been crashed into a couple of other cars.

  Melvin dropped his pack and retrieved his binoculars out of the middle pouch. While the other three watched the perimeter, Melvin conducted a long, slow scan. After a couple of minutes, he lowered the binoculars and rubbed his eyes.

  “Anything?” Liam whispered.

  Melvin handed off the binoculars.

  “The plant consists of multiple, oddly shaped rectangular buildings,” he said. “I don’t see any movement, but I’m getting a whiff of something.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Liam whispered back. “Something metallic. It’s like back home when you drove past the factories, you’d get a whiff of the odors coming out of them.”

  “Yeah,” Logan agreed. “The air is a little hazy around here too.”

  “I bet if we were to go inside, there will be some machinery running,” Liam speculated. “But where are they getting their power?”

  Logan put the binoculars to his eyes again and increased his scanning area. “I don’t see any solar panels or generators. They might have hydroelectric power coming from somewhere. Assuming there is actually manufacturing going on in there.”

  Melvin stood and as quietly as he could, straightened his clothing and brushed the dirt off. “Alright, we’ll do the same approach. True and I will make first contact.”

  The two men walked around the bus and approached the first building. It appeared to be the main building, rust-brown bricks, flat roof. There were a couple of cars in the parking lot, all grimy with flat tires, and Melvin observed a couple of semi-trailers, but they also had flat tires. Melvin’s jaw tightened. It was going to be a challenge finding a trailer to use.

  Another thing that Zach had pointed out when this mission was discussed. Had all the legacy production machines been replaced with robotics? Nobody seemed to know the answer. Setting up an ammo manufacturing facility from scratch would be difficult with robotics. The computers and software integration alone would require someone with advanced expertise. There was only one way to find out, and with that mindset, the mission was approved.

  They stopped at one of the cars, which was fifty yards from one of the entry doors.

  “No protective stuff,” True observed. “No barricades, no barbed wire, no nothing.”

  Melvin frowned. He would have thought any survivors in the area would have made use of this place. He looked back to ensure Liam and Logan were providing cover, and then motioned for True to follow him to the door. Melvin tried the door handle. It was unlocked. Retrieving a length of rope from his cargo pocket, he tied it to the door handle. The rope was only a few feet long. He hoped it was long enough for them in case the door was rigged. He worked along the side of the building until the rope was taut. True turned the handle and then jogged back to the car.

  “Here goes nothing,” Melvin murmured and pulled.

  The door squeaked as it opened but that was it. Melvin held the rope tight and True approached. He’d found a rock somewhere and used it to prop the rusty steel door open, and the men used their tac-lights to peer inside. Suddenly, True tapped his sergeant’s arm with the back of his hand and pointed down. A single monofilament line was stretched across the door opening at shin level.

  Melvin signaled the O’Malley brothers forward and then pointed out the trip wire. While they provided cover from the open door, True stepped over the line and traced it to its origin. It was a simple set up and True had no trouble disarming it. He handed it to Melvin who gave it a thoughtful inspection before handing it to Liam.

  “A flashbang,” Liam whispered. “Our SWAT team used these. It wouldn’t have killed us, but it sure would’ve got our attention.”

  Melvin nodded in agreement. It would have also been loud. Loud enough to alert someone of intruders and loud enough to attract zeds.

  They utilized a stack formation now as they walked through the factory. Lanes were marked off with yellow lines, which was an old OSHA rule. They did not spot any additional tripwires or other booby traps. Melvin noted the lack of actual bullets. They would have to check the storage magazines,
but all the manufacturing equipment was still present. It was like the employees shut down the equipment, cleaned up, and clocked out for the night. There were no robotics—no, it was all set up in an assembly line process. However, it looked like the entire process was computerized, which was expected. Melvin did not know how they were going to disassemble the equipment and then reassemble it properly back at Mount Weather.

  “Man, this place looks like it could crank out a lot of ammunition,” Logan whispered.

  Melvin nodded. “They produced over a billion rounds a year, and all of the military small arms calibers. This is a gold mine.”

  The more they looked around, the more doubt he had about their primary objective. Reaching the end of the plant, he gathered.

  “Listen up and tell me what you guys think. There is simply too much equipment and machinery here. What is really needed is to move a hundred or so people here and have them run this factory. In the meantime, we need to find ammunition. Let’s start with the loading docks and then on to the storage magazines.”

  When the mission debriefing was conducted a few days later, Melvin would describe themselves as luckier than a dog with two dicks. When they reached the loading docks, True noticed a trailer with the doors still sealed. It was one of those thin metal ribbons fastened together with a small metal ball. Using his bayonet, True cut the seal and worked the doors open. The trailer was full of olive drab-colored ammunition cans strapped down on wooden pallets.

  “Holy shit on a Siamese shingle,” Logan exclaimed when he saw it. “Are those ammo cans full?”

  “Yep,” True said. “Now we got to unload it.”

  “Huh?” Liam asked, and then he understood. “We’ve got to jack the trailer up and fix those tires, and it’s too heavy with all that ammo loaded in it.”

  “Yep,” True responded.

  It took the team a solid two hours to unload the trailer, and then the rest of the day to fix the seized hubs and find tires that would hold air. They worked without taking breaks. When they were finished, the sun was setting.

  “Do we want to drive at night?” Liam asked.

  Melvin looked around. “Men, I don’t know about you, but for the past couple of hours, I’ve been feeling like we’re being watched. I’d like to put a few miles down the road and then find a spot for the night.”

  “Been feeling the same way,” True said.

  “We haven’t seen anyone,” Logan remarked.

  “We know that doesn’t mean anything,” Liam said. “Both the Sarge and True have good intuition. If they both think we’re being watched, we probably are. Besides, who rigged that booby trap? Was it rigged a long time ago, or is it recent? And, if it’s recent, who rigged it?”

  The decision was unanimous. In fact, the four of them seldom disagreed on anything that mattered; that’s what made them a good team. Before they left, Melvin used a Sharpie to leave a message on the door where the booby trap was rigged. He identified themselves, welcomed the chance to meet with them, and provided the radio frequencies they transmitted and monitored.

  They went north on Twyman Road and then east on Highway 24. The area used to be a lot of farms interspersed with houses and businesses. They continued this route for several miles until it was got dark enough to use the headlights. When they came upon the Winfrey Road intersection, there was an old Ford dealership on the north side.

  “If there isn’t anyone living there, that’d be a decent place to park the truck,” Liam remarked.

  Doing so, they parked and cleared the outside parking lot of any possible zeds and hostiles. Once they’d completed the task, the men prepared for the night. Logan pointed up at the clear sky.

  “It’s not going to rain. I say we sleep on top of the trailer. We can spread out, no fear of zeds, and Liam’s farts won’t be as noticeable.”

  “I really expected a firefight with those boys,” Liam remarked as he ate dinner. It was darker now, so they used a candle partially concealed in a soda can for light. The temperature had dropped a few degrees and the men were enjoying a pleasant breeze.

  “Me too,” Logan said. “Especially after True gave that boy a couple of bitch slaps.”

  “If not for the Professor, there would’ve been,” Melvin said. “I don’t know if y’all noticed, but he had his own hand signals.” Melvin chewed on a bite. “Interesting man, that professor.”

  “He’s dying,” True said. The men gazed at him, waiting for him to explain. “That cough of his. That wasn’t no ordinary cough. It came from deep down in the lungs. He needs medicine and he ain’t got any. And all that talk about humans dying out. He was talking about himself. There’s one of those psychological terms for that kind of behavior, projection or something.”

  Melvin nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense, I suppose. Now that mortality is looking over his shoulder, he’s not so inclined to be a part of any further death and destruction.”

  Logan scoffed. “The way he talked, you’d think he’d go to his grave laughing in glee if everyone was dead.”

  “If he dies anytime soon, the next time we come this way, we’re going to have to deal with those men of his, and it won’t be pretty,” True predicted.

  Melvin nodded again. “True that.”

  Chapter 53 – The Return of Team Joker

  “It’s good to be heading back,” Trader Joe said.

  “It seemed like for a little while you two wanted to stay,” Joker said.

  It was a sarcastic statement. In fact, the two men had been wanting to abort and return home from the get-go. He waited for a response, but the father and son only exchanged a glance with each other. He got the same response when he asked them about when they lived at Bristol. Whenever he tried to talk to them about life in Bristol before they came to Mount Weather, they responded with vague explanations and would go off on tangents. Within seconds, they’d be regaling Joker with tales of Little Joe’s baseball games.

  He would have liked to have ventured into the city, but once they’d completed their primary mission, and especially after injuring his hands, the decision was made. Little Joe hit a series of potholes hard enough to cause the men to bounce in their seats. Joker quickly glanced back at the trailer before scowling at Little Joe.

  “Sorry,” he muttered.

  “We’ve got forty miles to go. Stay alert,” Joker admonished.

  “Roger that.”

  “So, what’s next for you two?” Joker asked.

  Trader Joe gave a small smile. “Ah, well, we’ll spend a day or two at Mount Weather with Riley, then we’ll head back to Marcus Hook.”

  “I haven’t been there in a while,” Joker remarked. “How are things?”

  “It’s good, but we stay busy. I don’t know how long it’s been since you last visited, but we’ve made tremendous progress on the wall. Our shipping docks are secured now, and we’ve wired off more acreage for our cattle.”

  “Are you getting any shipping traffic?” Joker asked.

  Trader Joe chuckled. “Not a bit, but one day we will, and we’ll be ready.”

  Father and son traded a glance. In fact, they had secured their own port a few miles away from Marcus Hook. Their intention was to eventually create their own shipping business, independent of Hook and Weather. In fact, they’d discussed engaging in piracy, if the conditions were right.

  And, they were procuring the necessary ingredients to restart their meth operation. Their lab blew up back in Bristol and set everything on fire. It destroyed everything they had. He had a plan this time. The building where the lab was going to be was a standalone building with concrete block walls and a metal roof. If they had another screw-up, they could mitigate the damage.

  Little Joe knew his father had been talking to a couple of men in secret. He’d started as seeming casual conversation, fueled with a little weed and homemade moonshine. When he found a couple of people who warmed up to the idle talk of what he was doing, he brought them into the plan.

  Surprisingly, one of t
hem was Clay Fleming’s wife. She’d already declared her disdain for Clay, and Little Joe strongly suspected she and his father had smashed on more than a few occasions.

  He idly thought about Hermione and her big, perky breasts. He was messing around with another girl, but hell, he wasn’t in a committed relationship. He smiled to himself as he narrowly avoided a large rock lying in the road. He stopped and moved it out of the way before continuing. Joker gave him an approving nod.

  Chapter 54 – Flash Comes Home

  Flash turned the bike onto Blueridge Mountain Road from the state highway and nearly fell over. He stopped a moment until the dizziness lessened. He glanced down at the bike. He tried hard, but for the life of him, he had no recollection of how he came into possession of it.

  His vision was blurrier now. The hallucinations now included random noises and voices. The wind in the trees sounded like ghosts whispering his name. Then, there was a faraway noise—it was repetitive, like someone banging on a tom-tom drum. It became progressively louder, as did the ghost voices.

  “Flash? Flash? Can you hear me?”

  They knew his name! The ghosts knew his name! He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. They were fuzzy apparitions. Zeds! They were zeds! They spoke his name and they were going to eat him. He swung his fists madly, but suddenly he felt two vises clamp down on his wrists. He could no longer move his arms.

  “Easy, Flash. It’s your buddy, Slim. Can’t you see me?”

  Flash tried to focus, but it was impossible. He tried to speak but his throat was so dry he could only croak out raspy gibberish.

  “Holy Moly, you look like death warmed over. Hang on, I got you,” the voice said.

  Flash felt himself being lifted and carried. Was it Slim? Was Slim a zed now? The tom-tom drums started again, and he felt his body bouncing up and down. He heard another ghost speaking.

  “TOC, this is post one. We have Flash! He’s in bad shape, send us a medic ASAP!”